


Milking, For What It's Worth

by merakily (fengbi)



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Competition, Cooking, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-04
Updated: 2016-07-04
Packaged: 2018-07-21 14:46:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7391419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fengbi/pseuds/merakily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur competes in a cooking contest and gets himself a boyfriend. Alfred hosts a cooking contest and gets himself a boyfriend. Matthew is just happy they didn’t burn down his studio.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Milking, For What It's Worth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [samsquared](https://archiveofourown.org/users/samsquared/gifts), [Drones_of_Innocence](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drones_of_Innocence/gifts).



> A gift for samsquared and drones-or-innocence for coming up with the premise and for being beautiful people ♥♥
> 
> And credits to Sam for coming up with the title ^^

Matthew Williams did not have the slightest clue why he ever agreed to to air Kitchentalia.

 

Sure, he would make millions off the eight episode mini series. Not to mention all the advertising deals, and the fact that Alfred F. Jones was rapidly rising in the world of reality competition shows. But it really wasn’t worth the two months worth of chaos it would bring to his once peaceful studio.

 

Eleven months earlier, when the contract was signed, Matthew had been ecstatic. His smaller channel would finally receive some media attention from a widespread audience, he hoped it would propel him into the mainstream.

 

Tough luck. 

 

Initially, Alfred F. Jones had invited Yao Wang, the finest chef in the East and Matthew could have died from elation because it would result in an international deal. And international deals meant more viewers, which meant more advertising deals, which meant more money in Matthew’s pocket.

 

And then the other competitor was revealed to be Arthur Kirkland, the up and coming chef who was slowly overtaking Gordon Ramsay's popularity and reputation amongst food critics and audiences alike, and Matthew celebrated by buying himself a new house. An expensive one. One that he could only afford because of the hefty checks that Alfred f. Jones brought along with him.

 

For months, Matthew was in a constant celebratory mood, given that he was about to become one of the entertainment big shots and people would finally stop forgetting about his existence.

 

Tough luck.

 

As it turned out, upon his first meeting with Yao Wang and Arthur Kirkland, he found that both men, though endlessly talented, had a huge sense of national pride and a spectacular distaste for those who dared to believe any country could be better than their respective homelands. And neither had any qualms against resorting to using verbal or physical manners to deal with those who dared to disagree.

 

They were only on the second episode and Matthew was on the verge of throwing himself into the oven.

 

This wasn’t the first studio they had used for Kitchentalia either. The first episode ended with the studio almost on fire and covered in fire extinguisher powder and food splattered everywhere and a wok shaped hole in the wall (courtesy of an extremely angry Chinese man, intended for an equally angry Englishman). And the remains of a toaster lying in a sad pile of wires and little iron picks.

 

Kitchentalia’s ratings had skyrocketed, but Matthew’s sanity was plummeting. 

 

As Matthew stood on set, outside of the camera frame, he hoped desperately that filming the second episode would be less destructive. The three stars were already in front of the camera, Yao and Arthur wordlessly glaring at one another, Alfred making small talk with the cameraman.

 

“Three, two, one, and, action!” Kiku, the cameraman, said as the camera began rolling

 

“Welcome to the second round of Kitchentalia, where we present to you round two of the international East versus West Cuisine Clash. This episode we bring to you,” Alfred yelled into his microphone, mimicking a drum roll, “the breakfast edition!” He faced Kiku, addressing his fake audience. “We return this week with Yao Wang of the East, and Arthur Kirkland of the West. And look, both of them are still alive! Last week we ended on a bit of a hot note,” Alfred said, referencing the kitchen fire that resulted in everyone evacuating the previous set. “But worry not folks, as we return this with a new set, new attitudes, and a brand new set of recipes!”

 

“Today we bring to your homes, the Kitchentalia breakfast edition, where Yao and Arthur will make and compare who has the best traditional breakfast food! Contestants, tell us what you will be preparing for us today!”

 

Both Yao and Arthur, who had been standing a couple feet behind Alfred, now stepped forward on each side. Alfred first turned to Yao, holding the microphone under Yao’s jaw.

 

“Hello, my name is Yao Wang and on behalf of my nation, the middle kingdom of the East, I would like to make for you a standard Chinese breakfast from the province of Sichuan, rice porridge with duck egg and fried rice chips, sweet lotus seed buns, and pumpkin tarts. For a drink, you will be served a glass of a warm Chinese soy beverage.” Then Yao bowed ninety degrees, and said, “I hope you will enjoy what I will prepare.”

 

“Oh, I look forward to what you will bring to the table for us, Yao!” Turning to his other side, Alfred then placed the microphone speaker under Arthur's face.

 

“Hello,” Arthur said, “I am Arthur Kirkland and I am representing the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland. Today, I will be making an English classic, baked beans on toast which you can wash down with a fine glass of milk from the worthiest of English cows.”

 

“Now Arthur,” Alfred said, his voice projecting a half teasing tone, “you’re pretty hot, but are you sure your meal will be comparable to the masterpiece we just heard Yao describe? Can your cooking be as hot as you?”

 

Immediately, Arthur scowled and crossed his arms. “English food is amongst some of the best in the world! We have upheld a long tradition of serving only the best.”

 

Under his breath, Yao muttered, “By stealing the best from everyone else.” 

 

Arthur didn't hear what Yao had said, as he continued sharing his love for English food, but Alfred had heard, and he was struggling to keep from laughing right then and there. 

 

Having appeared to have learned a lesson from the previous episode, neither Yao nor Arthur said a word to each other as they cooked. It was as if each man had the kitchen to himself, seeing as neither gave any acknowledgement of the other's presence.

 

Which Matthew noted with joy, since every passing moment without a fight was another second closer to his studio surviving the filming. Not to the mention all the drama an on screen rivalry would create for the tabloids, which would lead to more attention, and more viewers, and best of all, more money.

 

And if his studio could survive all the subsequent fillings, then Matthew could still make the case that Kitchentalia was the best choice.

 

Both men cooked without saying a word, wholly concentrated on the task at hand. Alfred buzzed around and about the shared kitchen, doing his best to stay out of the way of the chefs and still narrate the events in a manner that would entice the audience. 

 

“Here we have the master chef Yao Wang in his natural habitat, the kitchen, where he is chopping the green onions with a skill and precision only achievable by a true gourmet chef!”

 

“Arthur is currently mixing a special sauce for his beans, using his top secret recipe. So secret, that I couldn't even get him to spill it when he was drop dead drunk!” Any other time Arthur would have hit Alfred, but for now he settled for chucking a spatula at Alfred.  

 

Matthew winced as the spatula clanged against the floor, but neither the floor nor utensil suffered any visible damage. The worst that could have happened was a small scratch on the floor.

 

On the other hand, Yao barely needed Alfred's commentary to keep the show entertaining. Watching Yao work in the kitchen was much alike to what watching Michelangelo carving the statue of David would have been like. 

 

Though Arthur was a decent cook and could hold his ground against most other chefs, he was nothing in comparison to the skill and accuracy and aesthetic of Yao. 

 

In short, the contest was never much of a real mystery as to who would win, but Alfred did promise Arthur a job if he agreed for a date with Alfred. 

 

Yao was working magic with his hands, though, as he kneaded the rice dough into little patties. He worked at record speed and spooned a little dollop of lotus seed paste into the centre of each patty. And Yao never once consulted written instructions, taking seemingly random breaks in kneading to stir his pot of porridge and drop in a handful of seasoning. All his actions were carried out in a single fluid motion, not once did he never stop moving, and it was mesmerizing to watch. Truly a master of the art of food.

 

Perhaps, most impressive was the lack of recipe.

 

No recipe, or list of ingredients, or anything, was ever consulted by Yao Wang.

 

When questioned by Alfred, Yao’s response was short, and curt. “It is not your business. I do what feels right.”

 

And he ignored all of Alfred's subsequent questions.

 

On the other side of the kitchen, Arthur was standing by the stove, absentmindedly stirring worchester sauce and molasses into a pot of beans. To the side sat a working toaster containing two homemade slices of bread. Earlier, Arthur had prepared the dough at home to conserve filming time. A small notepad rested on the counter. Not a recipe, but tips and reminders were scrawled all over the paper.

 

Having completed Yao’s segment in the show, Alfred moved on to Arthur. 

 

(Later, the editors would realize there were barely two minutes of usable footage of Yao Wang in his natural habitat because he was too good at ignoring the cameras. And chasing Alfred out.)

 

To compensate, Arthur had quite a bit of footage, courtesy of all the cooking utensils aimed at Alfred. 

 

In the end, both set their respective trays on a table before the judging panel which consisted of Alfred, Francis Bonnefoy (a notorious food critic with a inborn hatred for all things English) and Lovino Vargas (a short tempered Italian critic known for hating everything).

 

Matthew was so very close to crying in relief because the set was undamaged and everything was just going so well and he couldn't imagine anything that could ruin his cloud nine.

 

“Mon dieu!” was Francis’ immediate reaction to seeing Arthur's dish being placed before him. “Am I being served the droppings of a dog!?”

 

“It’s not like you deserve any better, you French bastard,” snapped Lovino.

 

“Arthur, are you sure this is food? I think I might get food poisoning...” The slimy brownish sauce coating the beans did not look even the slightest bit appetizing, and Alfred couldn’t help the queasy look that adorned his expression.

 

Clenching the armrests just a bit too tightly, Matthew looked desperately at Alfred to do something before his studio went up in flames. He couldn’t very well just run up and drag Arthur Kirkland away from the studio, but Alfred was playing with dangerously uncontrollable fire here.

 

And the cherry on top was when Yao decided to voice his opinion. “You see now, the only proper breakfast is a Chinese breakfast. Well balanced, filling, and with many options. China does not do things like crap. China only produces quality, unlike the British.”

 

Arthur’s mouth opened and closed wordlessly for a few, long, seconds and Matthew was gripping his chair so hard that the armrest cracked under the pressure. 

 

Kiku even had his phone out, prepared to call 911.

 

“Why-why...you!” Arthur’s cheeks were burning red and was so angry he could barely formulate words. 

 

He settled for angrily reaching for his dish, presumably to smash the food into someone’s face. However, as he leaned in to retrieve his tray, Alfred took that moment to get in Arthur’s way.

 

And what better way to stop a murderous Englishman, than pulling him into a heated liplock?

 

Matthew stared at his cast, sweating profusely and crying tears of joy.

 

With the table between them, Alfred and Arthur were making out rather obnoxiously, making loud and wet smacking sounds. Alfred’s hands cupped Arthur’s face, his thumbs gently stroking Arthur’s cheeks while Arthur stood still. Unmoving. Still in shock. His arms, previously poised to But certainly Alfred’s feelings were reciprocated, seeing how Arthur was more than happy to return the kiss. And enthusiastically deepened the kiss.

 

Yao Wang, Francis Bonnefoy, and Lovino Vargas had been all but forgotten, as Kiku zoomed all the cameras in on Arthur and Alfred. His phone, number pad still displaying 9-1-1, had been thrown on a counter, also forgotten.

 

Off to the side, Matthew was bouncing up and down. The ratings would skyrocket and he was about to make millions more and Kitchentalia would be renewed for a second season and maybe his proposal for a second show would go through and he was about to rich and everything was just working so well for him. Matthew couldn’t help his celebratory dance. After all, this just cemented the high ratings for the remaining episodes and Matthew could now call himself a rich man.

 

And, best of all, the studio would survive the episode.

**Author's Note:**

> This was so difficult omg.  
> Fluff is hard ._.


End file.
